Work Your Magic
by dhbPATHWAY1997
Summary: America's falling in love with England, so he's GOT to be doing some hocus-pocus voodoo stuff on him, right? Well...maybe not? Eh, it's probably a good enough hunch to start a war over. USUK fluff; rated T for language and sexual themes.


At a very long table at a very important building in New York City sat four men, all looking equally confused and irritated.

"Does anyone know why we're here, aru?" asked China, tossing his long ebony ponytail off of his shoulder in restless annoyance.

Mutters of "no..." were heard around their end of the table from France, Russia, and the usually-invisble Canada.

"I hope he has a good reason for this," Russia said, smiling innocently and yet looking terrifiyingly threatening. "For his sake." Canada and France shuddered at his tone.

"Probably not," muttered China, seemingly unfazed by Russia. He crossed his arms and turned to glare at the wall.

"Well maybe-" began Canada, but he was interrupted by the double doors to the large room slamming open, hitting the walls and bouncing back behind America as he strode heroically into the room. Canada sighed. _They probably wouldn't have heard me anyway..._

"Hey, dudes, thanks for showin' up!" grinned America, striding to the head of the table.

"_Oui_, but _why_ are we here, exactly?" asked France. "It seems to be a meeting of the Allied Powers, but it's been quite a while since we've done that... Not to mention, _Angleterre_ isn't here."

"Exactamundo!" America gave France a thumbs-up. "England's not here. And that's 'cause this meeting is about him."

The four other countries waited for him to continue, and he did.

"We need to get England to stop using his magic!"

There was a pause before Russia said, "If you say so."

"Thanks for backin' me up, dude!" America thanked him, somewhat nervously, and then he turned back to the others.

"But...why?" asked France, looking confused.

America looked at him seriously. "Because he's using it against me."

All countries except America and Russia gasped. "What?" the three exclaimed at once.

"He wouldn't do that!" argued Canada, unsure anyone had heard him.

"What did he do to you?" asked Russia, smiling a little wider and listening with more interest. "Was it horrible?"

Dramatically, America slammed both hands down on the table and leaned forward. His voice was grave and absolutely serious as he said, "He's using his magic," he paused, "to make me fall in love with him."

Instantly, any seriousness the other countries had gained towards Alfred's problems had vanished. The four others stared at America blankly, unsure of what to say, until Russia stood up.

"Well, _do svidanya_, America. Good luck with that." And he gave a last creepy smile before turning to exit the room.

"What? Wait, come on, man, I need your help!" exclaimed America, looking upset.

"I agree with Russia," said China, looking annoyed. He stood up and followed Russia out the double doors. "I have much better things to do than listen to you and your ignorant...theories, aru."

"China, you too? Ugh! Fine! Well! Yeah! That's okay! No problem-o!" America crossed his arms, turning away from the door. "France'll help me, right, buddy?"

"Er...I suppose..."

"Sweet!" America pumped his fist in celebration.

"Um...I'll help, too..." said Canada, sitting forward.

America turned and looked at him, seeming startled, then he smiled. "Oh, hey, Canada! How long have you been here, bro?"

Canada sighed. "A while..." he muttered.

"You can both help me, then!" decided America. "Canada, you can prepare your army! France, just keep funding us indefinitely, as long as it takes to defeat Mr. Burnt-scones-cones-for-personality!"

"_Amerique_, are you saying you want to declare _war_ on _Angleterre_?" France asked incredulously.

America nodded excitedly.

"Are you sure that's a good idea...?"

"What else am I gonna do? We've gotta get England to stop using his magic crap on me!" America put his head down on the table. "He's gonna get the best of me - he'll manipulate me, then strike when I've been worn down enough by his hocus pocus!"

Canada sat up. "But America! You can't challenge England like that! No matter who wins, the other one will end up seriously injured and in a lot of debt! You're both too strong, and you, specifically, don't have enough money!"

America pondered for a moment. "Are you saying I should get that Switzerland guy involved? He's got cash, right?"

Canada slapped a hand to his forehead. "No. I didn't mean that. At _all_."

"Then what-"

"_Amerique_," France interrupted. "Have you ever stopped to think that maybe it's not _Angleterre's_ magic that's making you, as you said, fall in love with him?"

America looked at the romantic pervert blankly. "Well no, what else could it be?"

France sighed. "Maybe it's not magic...maybe it's you. Maybe you're feeling this way because you really do love him...? Do you see what I'm saying?"

America stood still, looking shell-shocked. "Bu-I-I..." Then he looked between France and Canada suspiciously. "This is your way of saying I should confront England himself, isn't it?" He put his hands on his hips.

France and Canada sighed at the same time, exasperated at America's ignorance. France said sardonically, "_Oui_, America, that's _exactly_ what we're saying. Because that's a _fantastic_ idea."

"You could have just said so," muttered America. "Didn't have to be so...uh...um..." France and Canada waited for him to continue. "Um...what's the word...like, puzzles and stuff...?" America thought hard as France raised an eyebrow dubiously. "Uh...cryptic! _Cryptic_, that's it!" America looked at them proudly. "You didn't have to be so cryptic! England taught me that word, he's really good with words and stuff you know, and he-" A look of horror crossed his face. "Dear God, he's getting to me. I gotta go!" He jumped out of his chair and nearly flew to the door.

Startled by America's hyperactive movement, France and Canada jumped.

"There's not much to thank you guys for, really, but I'll see ya later! Wish me luck!" America saluted the two stunned countries. "Nobody's gonna be in love today!" And with that proclamation, he was out the door.

In the sudden silence, France and Canada sat. "Well, that won't do..." muttered France, and Canada realized with disappointment that France was most likely talking to himself. Canada was surprised when France turned to him with a smile. "Say, Canada..."

Canada raised his eyebrows, blushing. He was happily surprised that France had even remembered he was there, let alone his name. "Uh, y-yes, France?"

"What are you doing tonight?" winked France.

"Iggy? England?" America pounded rythmically on the door to England's hotel room, leaning against it lazily. "Engla-a-a-a-and!"

Inside, England was trying to ignore the annoying country, sipping his tea while a vein stuck out in his forehead. In his hand, the teacup shook, sloshing the tea inside around. He had only wanted to spend his day before the meetings in peace... The time between landing in the meetings' host country and the actual meetings was really the only restful time he had anymore. At home, he was bothered by local politics, and countries like France and Spain bothering him every five minutes. At meetings, he was bothered further by America, China, Russia, and all the rest of the countries who bothered him anyway. Yes, England could confess to himself that America wasn't _quite_ as annoying as he put on, although that may have just been...attraction coloring his vision. But still, besides America, the idiocy around him became unbearable. Couldn't he just have a few hours...?

"Iggy-y-y-y!"

Apparently not.

"Oh, blast it all." England set down the teacup on the coffee table in front of him and walked to the door grudgingly. He took a breath, exhaled it wearily, and opened the door. "Yes, America?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Finally!" America said, pushing past England to get inside of the hotel room. "Took ya long enough to open up, didn't it?"

"I only let you in at all because soon enough, I'd be getting complaints from the hotel manager, you prat. Must you be so _loud_?"

"I'm not here to talk about me, England, we're here to talk about you!" said America, taking a seat right next to where England had been only moments ago, getting comfortable with or without invitation.

England crossed his arms. "Oh, really, that'd be a first. And why are we talking about me, pray tell?"

"I'm here to demand that you stop using your magic!" America pointed a finger at him.

England's busy eyebrows furrowed. "I beg your pardon? You _demand_ me to - you demand me to stop using my _magic_?"

"Yup!"

"Who are you to demand _anything_ of me, you oaf? Besides, I barely use it for anything these days! It's just easier to levitate the paper to my chair in the mornings, you see, it's not anything dangerous! I've been through this before, and I-"

"Pfft!" America leaned back in his seat. "Don't lie, dude, it's beneath you."

England raised his eyebrows incredulously. "Lie? How would you know if I've been using magic or not in the first place? You don't know!"

"I do, too, I'm your victim!" America argued. "You're a great actor, though, man, really convincing."

"Acting! How dare you? And what do you mean, you're my victim? I haven't done a thing to you!"

"Come on, man. I thought we could both be adult about this, don't make me declare war. Just admit what you're doing, and stop doin' it, and I'll go."

England's eyes widened in surprise. "You would declare _war_...against _me_, because I'm using magic? Something I've always done? That's mad! _You're_ mad! I haven't done anything!"

"Dude! Do I have to say it?" America rolled his eyes.

"Yes! That would be infinitely helpful!" retorted England, putting his hands on his waist.

America sighed. "I guess I'll be the bigger man. You're using your magic to make me fall in love with you! And you need to knock it off!"

England stared at the obnoxious country for about a whole minute, too shocked to say anything. His left eye twitched a little, and his cheeks heated up. He wanted to curse and pray at the same time, unable to believe he'd heard what he had, but sure it really had been what America said.

"Fall in..._love_...?" he breathed. Blushing brightly, he spoke louder. "What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

America gave him a look. "You _are_ a good actor, Iggy. But come on, be a grown-up. Just confess and agree to stop. We don't have to do anything drastic."

"D-Don't be so degrading!" England scoffed. "You just want to accuse me of something, don't you, you prat? You _know_ I didn't do anything to you!"

"Seriously, man? You can't fool me! Not this time!" grinned America. "The proof is right here," he tapped his chest, over his heart. "You can't _hope_ to convince me that I'm wrong!"

Fuming, England stomped out of the main room into the bedroom, and came back a moment later with a thick book, covered in green cloth with faded gilded script on the cover. There was something about the book that made America want to throw it out a window, but he took it when England held it out to him.

"That," said England angrily, "is the only magical book I brought with me. I haven't a clue how to make any sort of love potion, serum, powder, tranquilizer, pill or spell without a special volume back at my home in London. Go ahead, look through it," England invited as America held the book with a blank look on his face.

Hesitantly, America opened the thick volume, reading the titles of pages as best he could: _To preheat an oven...magically; To bake a soufflé so perfectly, it's magical; What spice to add?; Know when to add more salt._

"This is...a cookbook?" America said incredulously.

"Yes," England replied hotly. "It is. I've been...trying to learn how to cook."

"Again."

England glared at America. "Yes," he said through gritted teeth. Again."

America continued to flip through the pages, looking for any word that resembled _love, infatuation, charm, _or _attraction_, but found nothing aside from a few quesitonable French recipes. Finally he looked up at England and gulped.

England, with arms crossed, regarded him curiously. "So. What say you of your accusation now?"

America's expression grew more and more confused and unsure. "England..."

"Yes?" England raised an eyebrow.

"If it's...if it's not your magic, then..."

The same thought that had occurred to America occurred to England, and his eyes widened, his blush returning to his cheeks.

"...then I'm in love with you," finished America wonderingly. America didn't blush, just looked at England with awe in his bright blue eyes.

Internally, England was fighting with himself. Half of him wanted to throttle America, and tell the younger nation that no, he was being stupid, he was overreacting. The other half made him feel like he was flying, his heart in his throat and smiling, somehow, there was so much happiness. Feeling so conflicted, England continued to just stand there, looking at America with a red face, his eye still twitching slightly.

America wasn't discouraged by England's lack of response, and only feeling a bit embarrassed, he stood up, setting England's magic cook book down on the coffee table next to his lukewarm tea. England's face followed his as he stood, looking up as America came closer and their height difference more noticeable.

Gently, America cupped England's cheek with his hand and began to lean in, his other hand finding England's that hung by the Brit's side. Intertwining their fingers, America pressed his lips tenderly against England's, hesitantly at first, then a little more confidently.

England stood stock-still momentarily, his fingers completely unmoving and his lips much the same until America tilted his head a little so as to get a better angle, and England snapped out of his daze. He didn't have the consciousness to realize that it was _America_ kissing him, just that it was someone he loved kissing him, and that it made him happier than he believed he'd been in a long time. So he tightened his fingers around America's, and leaned into the kiss, putting his free hand on the back of America's head and stroking the hair he found there.

Warmth flooded America's body as it felt like someone had flipped a switch within him. Like England, he couldn't think of the consequences of _who_ it was he was kissing, only that he never wanted to stop. He focused solely on the feeling, brushing his thumb smoothly against England's cheek, reveling at the softness.

With their kiss, both countries thought something much to the same effect: _This is love_.

Finding suddenly the need for air, their lips parted. Their eyes opened, pools of crystalline blue reflected into green and vice versa, then realization struck them.

America jumped back towards the sofa, pulling his hand away from England's and calling out, "Holy crap, I just kissed you!" at the same time England wrenched himself backwards, nearly falling over, and exclaimed, "Bloody hell, you just kissed me!"

They stared at each other, eyes wide and panicked, unable to say anything for a moment or two while they caught their breath.

After a while, America ran a hand through his hair, grinned for a moment, and looked at the floor, looking shell-shocked. "Oh my God. I just kissed you..."

"Yeah," breathed England, finding it difficult but necessary, somehow, to keep his eyes on America.

A few more moments of silence, becoming increasingly more awkward, passed before America said, quietly, "I thought it was magic. I thought magic was the only reason I found you adorable, and smart, and funny, and sexy, and fun to be around, and...just...amazing... But it was me." America looked at England again, a small smile on his face. "England... I love you."

"You - you used to be my brother," was all England could say, and he instantly felt stupid for saying it.

A look of worry crossed America's face. "Do you still think of me like that? Like a little brother?"

England hesitated, then sighed, "No..." The blush in his cheeks flared up again. "I haven't thought of you that way since...well, since I saw you all grown up. I knew I'd been a horrible brother, I hadn't raised you, I hadn't taken care of you. You'd grown up without me, you could take care of yourself, for the most part. That's when we began separating, I think..."

America nodded. "Yeah. I - I didn't think you cared about me, anymore."

England felt like he'd been stabbed. "No, America, I...I _always_ cared about you. I just didn't realize how much until you were gone. I didn't realize _how_ until you'd left me behind. And when you were revolting against me, I thought you were just trying to get rid of me. That you didn't...love me."

America finally straightened up, looking England in the eyes, and crossed the room to him again. "Can I be honest?"

England nodded.

"I never knew what you were to me."

England gave him a confused look.

"You called yourself my big brother, but you were always gone. You took care of me sometimes, but I was with Canada more than I was with you."

"Who?"

"Um..." America thought confusedly. The name had just come to him, and he'd said it, but his mind was drawing a blank. "Anyway, you weren't a dad to me for the same reason. You were more than just a friend, 'cause I wanted to hug you all the time, and I wanted all of your attention on me, and when I got older, I thought I wanted to kiss you."

When America didn't continue to speak, England swallowed and murmured, "Is it horrible of me that I love you, as well? Even if I once called myself your brother?" He searched America's eyes and found only emotion - no specific emotion, just an overflowing of feeling. "Is it horrible that I want to kiss you again?"

America considered. "...we're not related by blood anyway," he decided, and closed the distance between himself and England again, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing him.

Surprised, England kissed him back and put his arms around America's neck, pressing himself to America enthusiastically.

At some point, England was surprised to find they were on the sofa, pushed a little ways farther away from the coffee table as it had been before, and America moved his lips to England's ear. "You _are_ magic," he whispered.

The next day at the world meeting, England walked into the conference room a little later than he usually would have, but he certainly wasn't late. He was dressed smartly, in a business suit and shiny black shoes, his hair its usual mess but somehow not detracting from his overall look. England surveyed the other countries in the room with minimal interest not caring to even identify who all was currently in attendance.

Just a minute or two after England had entered the room, America came in, and this was strange for two reasons, the first being that he wasn't ten minutes late and the second that he hadn't loudly announced his arrival, bursting in through the double doors and making sure everyone knew he was there. In fact, he was quiet.

England glanced at America as he entered the room, and several countries who'd stared at the odd sight of a quiet America noticed the subtle blush that entered England's cheeks.

Besides that, France, Canada, China and Russia noticed something that none of the other countries would know: America was wearing the same clothes he had been yesterday, a Captain America t-shirt and jeans, both now somewhat wrinkled. His dress was unprofessional for the meeting, but America never wore a suit when the meetings were held in his country, anyway, so no one would find this strange - convenient.

The four countries watched England and America as they took their seats, America at the head of the table and England in the seat to his right. Every few seconds, the two would exchange a look, furtive and secretive, and Francis realized what had happened. A sly grin formed on his face and he sat back in his chair, looking relaxed.

Canada, who was also wearing the same clothes he'd had on yesterday, not that anyone would notice, recognized France's change in disposition and asked him, "What is it?"

Francis continued to smile as he explained, "Your _frère _is wearing the same clothes he was yesterday."

"Yeah, so?" Canada asked, then caught himself. His eyes widened "Oh..."

"_Oui_."

Canada gave him a look, able to ignore the fact that he, much like England, was blushing due to the fact that no one could see it, and said, "You're going to tease them mercilessly for this, aren't you?"

"_Bien s__ûr_," France answered smugly.

Canada thanked his lucky stars that he was invisible and those who would tease him couldn't see him, then sighed. "England won't like this..." he muttered to himself.

And he didn't.

Most of the rest of that day, France was making subtle but crude jokes directed toward England and America, usually causing the former to blush, but even getting America to become embarrassed occasionally.

Later, England told America he'd decided to stay in town for the next few days.

"I was just thinking, maybe we could stay together...talk, try to figure _us_ out, you know?" he explained to America, who was thrilled.

"Yeah, of course! Come to my place! Maybe I can finally watch that new horror mov-"

"No."

That night as they lounged on America's large, overstuffed couch, England asked him, finding sudden amusement in the thought, "You really thought I'd made you fall in love with me using magic?"

America laughed. "Yeah! And you kinda did."

"What? How do you mean?"

"Remember?" America stroked England's hand. "_You're_ magic to me, England."

**A/N: All (c) Hidekaz Himaruya. Aww. :3 This fanfiction sucks. :3 But I really wanted USUK fluff. XD Sorry guys. Fail humor, fail romance...EH. :P Thanks for reading, you poor now-braindead people. Hey, at least the grammar's good. :D**

**This was also practice for me using third-person perspective. If you've read any of the rest of my stuff, you know that I always write in first-person, or from a single character's perspective. But I need to avoid that, sometimes. XD When the situation calls for it, anyway. :)**


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